


The Littlest Things

by LoxleyAndBagell



Series: The Ballad of Hoss [5]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anxiety, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, everyone is excited for hoss the dog, only seen in the beginning, shitty is an excellent friend to have, there are cigars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 09:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5919046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoxleyAndBagell/pseuds/LoxleyAndBagell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspection Day at the Haus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Littlest Things

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for anxious thinking and behaviors witnessed by another character. What I've written is based on my own experiences in dealing with anxiety, and what I've found helpful to me.

Shitty pulled his earbuds out at the first knock. “’s’open,” he hollered.

 

Jack quietly opened the door, and hovered tensely at the threshold, eyes cast down.

 

Shitty felt his heart breaking; it had been a long day, but he hated seeing Jack uncertain in any way. He scooted closer to the wall and patted the cleared half of his bed.

 

“You’re just in time,” he blithely said. “I’m watching _Sleeping Beauty_ and Carabosse is about to come in _._ ”

 

Jack shut the door behind him and shuffled over, sitting carefully at the edge of the bed. Shitty tugged at his shirt until Jack softly giggled and made a minor show of collapsing down, letting Shitty pull him close to his side, scritching at the top of his head.

 

“What’s going on, Brenda Song?” Shitty asked.

 

He waited patiently for Jack’s response, watching him as he scratched at Jack’s scalp.

 

Finally, Jack curled in on himself a little, put his hands over his face, and exhaled slowly, speaking in a controlled rush. “The floors in the attic are shit, and we haven’t properly cleaned since fall, and the only new addition from this decade is the oven, and what if we have asbestos, man? Or lead paint, or that freaky arsenic wallpaper? Or the couch is actually a biohazard?”

 

Jack cut himself off, breathed slowly, and in a tiny voice, said, “They’re not going to think the Haus is safe for her.”

 

That got Shitty thinking. Absently, he pulled his arm out from under Jack’s shoulders, the better to fiddle with his moustache. Once he was satisfied with his arguments, he settled closer to Jack.

 

“Wanna know what I’m thinking?”

 

“That I’m being a crazy S.O.B. for acting like this?” came Jack’s muffled voice.

 

“That’s a shit adjective,” Shitty scolded half-heartedly. “Stop talking shit about my brother. I’ll fucking fight you.”

 

“I’m bigger than you.”

 

“I know where you’re ticklish. Anyway. I think you’re absolutely right to be worried about places in the Haus that aren’t safe for her. Tomorrow, we’ll make a list of places to block her from. The main floor is more than big enough for her bed and toys and stuff. And I can promise you that we don’t have asbestos, or any of that weird interior nightmare shit. The school wouldn’t let that fly. And Jack, most important of all, if Bitty ever lets Hoss up on any furniture whatsoever, we may take that as a sign that the End of All Days is upon us, and I will run to you and convert.”

 

Jack had slowly come to relax, minutely. His eyes were still closed, but he was smiling as he said, “You’re acting like I can just baptize you or something. I can’t begin to tell you how wrong you are.”

 

“Well, get me to someone who can, and we’ll figure shit out.”

 

They lay there for a while, until Shitty asked, “In all seriousness, do you want to watch this with me? Carabosse has literal dragons pulling her chariot, and I am all about that.”

 

 

Bitty’s internal alarm woke him at 4:30, but rather than go back to sleep, he decided to investigate the croaking sounds of dragging furniture downstairs.

 

It was, as a matter of fact, furniture being dragged across the floor, all the better to give Jack Zimmermann access to the carpet he seemed dead-set on cleaning, if the steamer nearby was any indication.

 

“Context?” he yawned.

 

Jack flinched, surprised to see him at the top of the stairs. He recovered after a moment, replying, “Laguardia’s coming today.”

 

Bitty stretched. “So we’re going to shampoo the carpet?”

 

Jack frowned. “I’m going to vacuum first.”

 

“Not at the asscrack of dawn you’re not. We’re mopping, first.”

 

“We are?” Jack asked as Bitty disappeared to the utility closet.

 

Bitty returned with a bucket, a mop, the soap, and the swiffer. “Yes, we are. It’s a lot quieter, and we actually have quite a lot of non-carpet floors.”

 

Jack shook his head, wide-eyed and wondering, before bounding up the stairs to help carry things down. “No, I mean… _we_ are?”

 

For a moment, Bitty looked like he wanted to say something rather serious. But then he shook his head and lightly said, “It’s not like I’m going back to sleep anytime soon. Come on, then.”

 

 

It was a disappointing day when the Haus woke not to the smell of pancakes, but to Lysol.

 

The good news was that by noon, with everything off the floor, those who had been conscripted into cleaning by virtue of only having evening class were rewarded with being permitted to slide on the newly cleaned floors in their socks.

 

The better news was that, when the doorbell rang, the Haus inhabitants were as clean as their domicile, and the building smelled of chocolate pudding.

 

 

 

Chowder hadn’t really been able to focus in class.

 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Farmer asked him again, walking with him to the Haus from class.

 

“Totally!” he assured her, squeezing her mittened hand. “I’m fine, really; just got preoccupied, it was my own stupid fault.”

 

“Shhh,” she scolded, bumping his shoulder with hers. “Don’t talk mean about my boyfriend. You’re not dumb.”

 

“You’re contractually obliged to say that!”

 

“Nope, just the truth. And I’m in the same camp with Professor Waller—“

 

“Well,” Chowder interrupted, teasing, “as far as Waller’s aware, I don’t hold a candle to you.”

 

“Oh my god,” Farmer laughed, “I am _not_ her favorite!”

 

“You totally are, though.”

 

 _“Nooooo.”_ With her free hand she began to half-heartedly swat at him.

 

“Why are you being so mean?” Chowder laughed.

 

“Why are you telling _lies?”_

 

“Okay, okay!” he relented, “you’re _not_ her favorite in class.”

 

Making a show of being relieved, Farmer squeezed his hand a little more and hugged his arm with her other. “Really?”

 

“For honest and truly.”

 

“Good.”

 

“You’re her favorite student ever.”

 

He got about a ten-foot head start on her, but not without getting a back-full of snow.

 

She tackled him just outside of the Haus, the pair of them collapsing in the snowy yard, this time snow doing down his shirt.

 

“Repent!” she laughed.

 

“I only speak the truth!”

 

From the porch, a throat cleared. “Do I need to come down there?”

 

Farmer and Chowder looked up to see Bitty leaning over the porch railing, one hand supporting his chin while the other dangled a smouldering cigar. He was regarding them with the amusement of a parent who came home a little too soon and a little too quietly.

 

“She’s being _mean,_ Bitty,” Chowder complained, kicking a little under Farmer.

 

She crossed her arms over her chest and sniffed daintily. “He was telling lies.”

 

“Was _not!_ Bitty, if she were your student, wouldn’t she be your favorite?”

 

_“Stoppppp.”_

Laughing, Bitty threw some snow at them. “Hey now, there will be no fighting words today.”

 

Once Farmer had helped Chowder up, Chowder asked, “you wanna come in?”

 

Farmer said, “sure,” the same instant Bitty said, “uh.”

 

Chowder flinched, looking at Bitty. “Oh. Uh. Is—is he still here?”

 

Farmer frowned. “Is who here?”

 

“Inspector,” Bitty said smoothly. “He’s left. It’s just,” he narrowed his eyes a little at Chowder, “that the boys are _celebrating the good news.”_

Chowder had to bite his tongue to hold back an excited shriek. “Oh,” he said instead. Then, “can’t she know?”

 

Bitty looked between Chowder’s pleading face and Farmer’s confusion, looked at their joined hands, then indicated for them to wait a second before walking back inside.

 

“What don’t I know about?” Farmer asked, suspicious.

 

“It’s good,” he assured her. “It’s really good, but—“

 

Bitty came back out with Lardo and Jack in tow. Someone had draped Jack in a pastel-colored flower scarf, and he looked hopelessly happy, punch-drunk and shaking with a constant stream of giggles. Lardo, for her part, was wearing a natty fedora with an ancient ostrich plume tucked in the band.

 

“Farmer,” Lardo said solemnly, “lift your hand and repeat after me: I, state your—“

 

From inside, a timer went off, and Bitty excused himself.

 

She made a whining noise, and then Lardo said, “actually, no, put your hand down. Caitlin, can you keep a secret? You can’t tell your team, at least not yet. Can you do that?”

 

Wide-eyed and concerned, she nodded. “Is everyone… I mean, it seems like everyone’s all right, what—“

 

Patting Jack’s back, Lardo announced, “Jack is having a child.”

 

At Farmer’s stunned look, Jack erupted into full-blown laughter. “Oh my _god,_ not like—we’re getting a _dog.”_

Farmer gasped as Chowder shrieked excitedly.

 

Lardo gestured for them to come up to the porch. “The guy from the shelter came over, he thinks this is an alright place for the dog and we’re an alright crowd, so we’re throwing Jack a baby shower, and Bitty’s made chocolate cookies for the occasion, so come inside before the vultures inside eat them all.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Sometimes... the littlest things take up the most room in your heart." --A.A. Milne.


End file.
